Tolerance and Acceptance: My Christmas Miracle

In keeping with the positive tone I'm setting for this new year (wonder how long it'll last), I should mention that there was a Christmas miracle of sorts for me this year.

Anyone who knows me (which is very likely none of you) knows that I love tattoos. I have six so far and I plan on many, many more. Addicted? Maybe. But each tattoo means something to me and I'm very proud of them. My mother? You can say that she's less than enthusiastic. This has always cut me deep, even if I understand why. But my tattoos are part of me. Hating them and expressing it is the same as telling me I'm too ugly or too short, or too anything (or not enough) for your liking. It's personal and it hurts - even more so because these tattoos are something I chose. The truth is that when I got my first tattoo, she cried and called me a branded cow.

Before everyone gets up in arms about it, you have to understand that her generation viewed it as something associated with the morally corrupt, the criminals and scum of the world. Honestly, they seem to have overlooked the sailor niche - which is bizarre for my family because they've been Navy for generations and generations. (But I digress.) Not only did her generation frown on it, her strict (and sometimes emotionally and physically abusive) family loathed anything out of the "norm." They were straight laced, Christian, military family with dark dynamics that we won't go into. So, needless to say, my mother learned a lot of things were "bad" that are now considered acceptable. Tattoos, for one.

Now, I'd been working on her for quite some time. I'd been saying that I want to get more tattoos, discussing which ones, talking about my old ones, and so on. Mostly trying to get her to expect more and not be so shocked, but also to try to get her more comfortable with the idea in general.

So here we are at the table at my in-laws', playing a game one of our friends got in the Christmas exchange game we do every year. It's warm and I tugged up my fleece leggings to cool off. And that's when she noticed the ghost tattoo on my leg that I've been hiding for six months (that my childhood friend drew custom for me out of the blue; so it's really special to me and an honor to have had him tattoo it on me). And she's predictably upset. She goes on, as usual, to say that I should stop getting tattoos. They're atrocious and in poor judgement. "And I don't really like any of them. Except that one." And she actually touches my forearm on the tattoo - something she's always avoided since I started getting them. Lo and behold, it's my very first tattoo - The Cruxshadows tri-fix.

"The symbol for our band is a cross (a tri-bar Eastern Orthodox cross, to be precise) with a field of light on one side and a field of dark on the other. What is important here is the idea of exclusion - or outsiders - because when all is flooded with light, the cross will still render a shadow; a place the light can't reach." - Rogue, lead singer of The Cruxshadows

This gives me hope. Not just for my mum to like and accept my tattoos. It makes me hope that people who have learned to hate something (or some people) their whole life can learn to change and accept it if they're exposed to it enough and are taught more about it. It makes me hope that knowledge can chase away fear and hate, and exposure can lead to acceptance. If my mum can learn to love tattoos, which she cried about and hated and verbally denounced every chance she had, then maybe people who spew hate and prejudice can learn to overcome it. Maybe, just maybe, they can learn to see people as people - no matter if they have different social status, skin color, or ways of expressing themselves. No matter if they come from far away, or love someone that was once thought unacceptable.

That would really be a miracle.

Hello, 2018: It's All About Perspective

Backstory time!
Since around May 2017, I've been in gradually worsening pain from my wisdom teeth. I only have two, both on top. But let me tell you.. they've been raising hell. The one on the left hasn't really been a problem. It hasn't broken through the gum (it seems to have stopped moving) and the tooth is coming in straight. The one on the right, however? It broke through the gum and came in at an angle. And one day when I was sick, I had a lozenge in my mouth for my sore throat. I fell because I was dizzy and fainted a little, biting down on the lozenge when I hit the ground. It cracked my wisdom tooth which has since impacted on the molar next to it.

For those of you who may not know, this is bad news.

When a wisdom tooth impacts, you want to get that sucker out as soon as possible. Where it pushes on your molar is where it creates a host of problems, including pain and possible infection from trapped bacteria and debris. Brushing has little to no effect, and flossing only goes so far; it can't go into the gum or very far under the tooth - if you can get it between them at all.

Since I've gone seven months without it getting pulled out (due to a research trip to the Virgin Islands and busy surgeon offices), it's been gradually worsening - to the point that the root and/or nerve is exposed and little bits of the tooth break off now and then. I floss and brush after every meal and any time the tooth starts to ache. It triggers my already chronic migraines (which makes me sensitive to temperature around me, light, and loud sounds), makes the entire right side of my skull ache, has given me a near constant fever (between 100.4F and 101.5F), and makes me feel like I have the world's worst earache (because they share a nerve cluster). Why do I tell you all this...?

Perspective.
You see, I'm a firm believer in the essentiality of suffering. It's part of the human condition. Without bad, there's no good. Without sorrow, there's no joy. By the same token: without pain, there's no relief. I learned from this pain. I will never take being pain free for granted again. I know what it's like to have to shut myself away in a silent, dark room while I want to be out doing things just because I'm in constant agony. I know what it's like to have to wear sunglasses indoors like an asshole just because the lights make my migraine worse and nauseate me. I know what it's like to need to wear earplugs or noise canceling headphones, but can't because anything touching my right ear causes pain and makes me wish I was dead. I know what it's like to starve because food/food temperature is too much to handle and nothing is helping. I know what it's like to overdose on both acetaminophen and ibuprofen. It's not fun.

But in comparison, just existing without pain is glorious. It gives me a brighter outlook and fills me with gratitude. Food tastes just a little better, friends are a little more welcome, and my attitude is a little brighter. And, guys? It's so hard to be depressed when you're feeling so good, so relieved, and so grateful.

In three days' time, my wisdom teeth will finally be gone. All in all, that's a pretty fantastic way to start the New Year, and I will carry this perspective and gratitude through the year. I'll remember the long months where crying was a norm and everything was hell, and I'll smile because I won't have to endure that again. I will be able to sleep through the night, rest my head on my hand, eat cold and hot foods, smile and laugh without cringing... And I hope that attitude will inspire a positive change in me this year, one that will help stave off my depression, return my patience and compassion, help me keep focus, and be just a little bit more human. I just have to remember to look back at where I've been and be thankful that it's behind me.

Because when it comes down to it, it's all about perspective.

Goodbye, 2017

Ah, here we are at the precipice of a new year. I've been silent through most of it, and that's because I was at either end of two extremes: peaceful and content, or raging so hard that there were no words left to express myself as I spiraled into the depths of darkness. Sounds emo when you put it that way, but I assure you it was as completely opposite of "attention seeking, angst-ridden, puberty-stricken child" as it could be. There were no poorly penned lyrics to be found, only shutting myself away from contact and wishing I would stop breathing.

Looking back over everything, it's a wonder I survived. My stress levels were so high so often that I would pass out or vomit, once in front of my own mother. But through it all, I did my damnedest to present myself with a smile and kind words, to mediate disagreements between PMSing friends who like to bitch about things that don't really matter in favor of ruining the good mood of others. I mean, honestly. Who bitches about going to the coast for Christmas? Who bitches about fictional characters to the point that it affects your relationships with real people? Who screams at people in public over a cake that wasn't their job when they should be supporting you and trying to make your very stressful time easier? Oh, right. My friends and family. To say I wasn't feeling up to this holiday season is a drastic understatement. Let's just say I'm looking at houses as far north as possible.

On the other hand, I am now in self imposed exile to get away from friends who are constantly being bitchy because they're having personal issues. I hate when people do this, because it means they have less regard for me than I have for them. I plaster a smile on my face, reassure them, referee, and try to keep the peace. Why can't they? Just the bare minimum of effort is all I'm asking for. I could give them some leeway if I knew they were bottling it up like I do, if they needed space and weren't very open, preferring to keep problems to themselves and work through it alone. But they work through things by talking about it. They like communication. SO WHY THE FUCK AREN'T THEY COMMUNICATING? Why do they expect us to read their minds and know what's going on with them, expecting us to excuse their shitty behavior just because they're having a bad day?

1. They should tell us so they're having a bad day.
2. They shouldn't take it out on their friends.
3. If they feel they're about to, they should explain and walk away until they can change their attitude.
4. If they do take it out on us, they should say why and apologize when they calm down.

Have they done any of these things? NOPE. They continue to infect us with their presence, expecting us to know they have personal issues and bend over and take it while sucking up to them like they shit rainbows. Pretty terrible, right? So I told them that I was done caring about people who weren't going to care about me, that I wasn't going to keep giving an effort for people who don't even try to do the same, and that I wasn't going to hide things anymore just to spare their feelings if they're just going to be shitty to me about it anyway. I muted their messages, contemplated the reasons for continuing to exist, hoped they would get sodomized with hot sauce, and proceeded to watch shows online until I could quell my rage at the inequality in my friendships.

I think for 2018, I need to find friends who give as much as they take, who put in the same things I do, and who try their hardest not to take things out on other people. I want to find friends who aren't flaky or bitchy, who make me want to open up to them, who make me feel that I can trust them, and who add something to my life instead of just take. And I want my family to stay out of my life. I'm not taking care of you like some old woman I'm supposed to pity. I'm not ruining my life by staying in this horrible place so you don't have empty nest syndrome. I'm not letting you get in my business just so you can feel relevant. I'm not going to sacrifice my youth just to make you happy. Parents need to learn to unclench and let their children do what's best for them. You did a good job if they leave the nest and get their own lives. You don't try to hinder their progress and hold them back because you're selfish - and that's what you're being. You don't try to play the pity/guilt card just because you want to feel like you can manipulate them into taking care of you.

What sick, twisted, manipulative, selfish people wouldn't want the best for their kids, even if it means they have to move away? Oh yeah. You guys. My mum and mother-in-law BLOW. Keep each other company and stop trying to stand in my way just so you don't get lonely. I want to have a life. I want success. I want freedom. I want to see what I can do on my own. I don't want to babysit you, cater to your needs, have you in my business every day, deal with your moodiness, inappropriate behavior, repetitive stories when you're drunk (often), and embarrassing redneck antics (that you chose when you moved south). I want to be someone with dignity who makes a difference in the lives of others and works toward a better future for the world. And I can't do that if you try to keep me here, sacrificing my health and happiness. LET GO.

So 2018, you are going to start with some boundaries, distance, and a firm stance on myself before others. Too long I have pushed myself to the back. Now it's time to take back what's mine for my health and future.

I encourage you all to do the same.

How To Be A Friend (And Decent Human Being)

Background: Why The Topic?
I've been reflecting with my group about the situation today with the nameless girl that is way too into herself. They brought to my attention that apart from focusing on herself all the time (her own problems and emotions, how everything relates to her, etc.), her main problem was jealousy.

Okay, I'm not self centered enough to say "she's just jealous" every time she throws a childish tantrum, but I noticed they're right. You see whenever one of us (our friends) is successful, she gets bitter. Maybe she hides it sometimes and smiles and congratulates us (to her credit, she does sometimes do this), but underneath she's comparing herself and harboring resentment because she's not doing better than that. Never mind that oftentimes her goals/dreams are unrealistic or too ambitious for where she's at that moment, never mind that she gets impatient and doesn't realize that a lot of her interests are niche and won't be hugely successful in the way she wants. She can't see any of that and instead gets jealous of the success around her.

Gone are the days of her shedding material wants in favor of peace and balance; now are the days where she wants success and status, material wealth. This isn't a bad thing, but being realistic about how to get it would do her well. I know many times we've told her that the things she wants to do are great and all, but not many people are interested in it during this day and age. Not everyone values the things she does, so realistically she can't expect to build this awesome empire on it and become insanely rich like she always seems to want. This is said in hopes that she doesn't continue to hate on herself and lash out at others because she is frustrated. Instead, she sees this as us devaluing her and saying her interests are shit - not at all what we're saying. We only say that it's good to try. It's good to work. It's good to be ambitious and have goals and love what you do - but in the real world, not everyone values that niche interest. Not everyone will be lining up halfway around the world just to have her services. So don't be disappointed if the going is slow and you're not amassing great wealth. So don't take it out on us if we have better luck with our endeavors because we have real world experience and know what people will want, what they're after and interested in. Sure, keep doing what makes you happy, but don't get disheartened if it isn't getting the results you want and don't be a bitch and ruin our happiness just because we find success. Which brings us to this article's main topic...

So You Want To Be A Decent Human With Friends...
How do you be a good friend? How do you be a decent human being? From an INFJ perspective, it's really simple: stop being a dick.

          1. Everyone has problems; it doesn't mean you get a free pass to lash out.

So many times she'd accused me of lacking compassion when she'd never shown it in the first place. Everyone has problems. Just because you're having a bad day, or week, or life it doesn't mean you get to take that out on people. Get the chip off your shoulder. Get over yourself. Stop treating people like shit or they won't like you anymore and won't want to put up with you. Problems are no excuse to treat everyone around you like a punching bag, then wonder why they aren't being nice to you. If I did that (and admittedly I have, but have apologized later when I calmed down), she would've escalated it and been a bitch right back. Which I'd expect of anyone. But there's no double standard.

Moral: If you're a bitch, who will want to care about you? Live every day like you won't be alive for the next one. Think of how you want people to remember you when you're gone.

          2. Don't push people away to see if they care; it's unhealthy and sick, and no one likes playing games.

If you care about someone, you don't play sick games with them. You don't push them away to see if they care. Instead, remind yourself that if they didn't care, they wouldn't be there in the first place. Look for all the little ways they show they care - asking how your day is, listening when you talk about work and plans even if they have nothing to contribute and your interests are vastly different, coming to you when they're worried about a mutual friend, opening up about their plans, and so on. There are hundreds of ways people show they care if you actually take the time to look.

Moral: Pushing someone away just to see if they fight is creating unnecessary drama and negativity. You're purposely making things hard on them and stressing them out just for your own sick validation. And if you keep pushing, eventually they won't come back. Even the kindest people have their limit.

          3. If a friend or loved one is successful, be happy for them.

If someone in your life is successful, be happy. Share in that joy. Celebrate with them. Because as the biblical saying goes, "Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous... It is never rude or selfish. It does not take offense and is not resentful..." If you truly love someone, you want them to be happy and successful. You don't compare yourself to them and ruin their happiness because you don't have what they have. You don't lash out and wreck their joy, tear down their accomplishments because you are jealous. Their happiness is your happiness. Their sorrow is your sorrow. Be glad they are well and don't think about yourself. It isn't about you.

Moral: Tearing down someone's accomplishments or making light of them (acting as if anyone could do it and stating that maybe you'll do it too, as if it's so simple) is a shit thing to do. Comparing your success to theirs and being resentful that you're not doing as well is unkind. Jealousy isn't flattering, and that's not what caring for someone is about. Let them be happy and celebrate with them - without harboring jealousy and resentment - or don't you dare call them friend.

And that's it.

Now that I know, what do I do about it?

Stop lashing out just because you're unhappy. Channel your emotions into something positive. Write a blog. Exercise. Meditate. Watch funny videos. Read a book. Get some sunshine. Work on constructive plans to solve your problems. Don't blame others for them and/or take it out on them. There is never an excuse for treating a person like shit just because you can.

Stop playing games with people's emotions just so you have validation. Validate yourself. Look for all the ways you can find that people show they care. If people didn't care, they wouldn't be around you. The games you play are sick and unhealthy and cruel. Seek help from a councilor, religious figure, or therapist.

Stop being jealous of the success around you and just be happy for those you love. Stop comparing success. Are they in the same field of work/study in a competitive environment where their success is actually detrimental to yours? Are they taking clients and/or your livelihood away? No? Then why the fuck does it matter!? Keep a journal of gratitude (I'm grateful I have a roof over my head, food on the table, a goal in life, clothing to wear, spending money, a vehicle, etc). Guaranteed, you have more than a lot of people do. And if you're still feeling resentful toward them for doing well, then you're not really their friend. Go find somewhere else to be, and stop bringing others down just because you're jealous.

And that, my friends, is the INFJ way of thinking. Until next time, be decent.

You're Better Than Friends

Life is full of little complications. People aren't who you think they are. They blame you for their problems and accuse you of not having compassion for them when they have no compassion for you. Just because they're having difficulties in their political climate or personal issues, it doesn't give them license to be a complete and total twat. There's no excuse for treating someone shitty when they've done nothing to you.

For instance, this infuriating girl. She can't see past her own nose and is self centered enough to think that everything is about her and directed at her personally. I'd mentioned wanting to do film, but the problem here is even if you have talent, you won't be looked at twice if you don't have the right school credentials to go along with it. You'll be stuck doing grunt work, busting your ass and hoping that one day you'll get a chance to be noticed - and you probably won't unless you're lucky. She said she thinks knowledge is more important than prestige. This is all well and good, but I said that unfortunately she's not the rest of the world. This was met with a hearty "Excuse me?" As if I said that her not being the rest of the world translated into "fuck you" or something. Then she told me to go enjoy my "prestigious life."

Well, after mentally slapping her across the face as hard as I could, I explained. Rudely, but you know I'm pretty sick of her shit. She then accused me of not wanting to talk to her. Ahem... Bitch, if I don't want to talk to someone, I DON'T TALK TO SOMEONE. So I told her until she got over herself, I was going to mute her. Cue her ranting about every problem she has, none of them actually my fault. They ranged from her country's politics and currency problems to not sleeping, to escapism through films, to how she feels like an idiot (which she noted as me rubbing that in, somehow - hey, if I could I would; she is being an idiot). Follow that up with her saying she pushes people away to see if they love her enough. First off, that's extremely unhealthy. Second, if you push someone away the chances are they're eventually going to get sick of your shit and decide it's not worth it and just LEAVE. Another point of interest - I'm supposed to say "Oh, wait. She's not usually like this. There must be something wrong." Does she do that with me? No, she just gets all pissy and makes things worse. Do her problems give her the right to be shitty in the first place? Not at all. Is she usually like this? Yes. Actually, this asshole behavior is a norm for her so nothing seems out of place. Just another day in "I'm the only one having problems, so I can have a temper tantrum and act like it doesn't happen all the fucking time, then blame you for my problems and accuse you of being insensitive and compassionless."

Now that that's out of the way, let's move on to the reason for posting this whole shit show above. Some people aren't worth your breath. They aren't worth you wasting a thought on them. For a time, you can convince yourself that if you just try hard enough, if you keep things light and don't share your thoughts and problems, if you can keep your own darkness away from them then it'll all be worth it. You can make yourself believe that you matter to them and that they truly care about you. You may even lay awake several nights in a row after an argument and wonder if you really are the bad guy, that maybe you somehow overlooked a crucial part where you were cruel or evil or deliberately malicious. But you weren't. Hell, I read all the messages a dozen times. They all follow the same pattern.

1. She has problems separate from me.
2. She works herself up over them and takes something I've said out of context.
3. She applies this to her problems and convinces herself that I'm the cause of her problems or contributing to them.
4.  She says nothing and lets it boil and fester deep inside, harboring this secret "injustice".
5. We have a completely normal conversation.
6. She takes something out of context and twists it in her head to an insult directed at her intentionally.
7. She blows up at me.
8. Exhausted, I call her out on the bullshit and craft a rude retort because I have my own shit to deal with and I'm tired of being the punching bag for her to take her emotions and perceived slights out on.
9. I walk away.
10. She rants and rants and rants, in which time she drops all her problems and neuroses on me, blames me for it, and plays the victim card.
11. I proceed to drink heavily, rant to a friend who claims they'll be there for me when I need them, and play violent videogames.
12. Said friend isn't actually there for me, so I proceed to drink even heavier and anonymously seek validation from strangers on the internet.

So why do we even bother with people like that? Why do we bother with friends who are only "there for you" after something drastic happens, then vanish when you have need of them?

"I'll be there for you. You can always talk to me, you know. You're not in this alone. Don't kill yourself. Just talk to me."

"Okay, I need help. I'm so tired of everything and I'm more than ready to die."

And silence. Maybe one will stick around for a few minutes to pretend things are okay but the second the talk turns to real stuff, as soon as you need their help, poof. Gone in a puff of smoke like they never were. It's strange to think that people I've never met and never will meet are my lifeline. This blog and all of you (your comments, your emails, your shares on Google+) have done more for me than those who tell me to entrust them with my life. You're always there, blowing up my inbox with your support and your own stories, your own rants. You know how I feel. You're in my corner and I'm in yours. That's the kind of support you don't get from friends.

Because when no one knows who you are, you have nothing to lose.

1. 
   

Home for the Holidays

All my life - and especially now with the holidays approaching - I've had an aversion to "family." I'm obsessed in the sense of tracing my lineage and finding out where I come from, but when it comes to holidays or gatherings, I feel physically sick and want to run off somewhere. I can't stand being in the same room with so much family. Sitting down around a table like it's some big event with people I know so well just doesn't sit right with me. Everything feels so fake.

My Mother, The Critical

It doesn't help that my mum has always been hypercritical of me. I get that everyone's mum is critical. It's what they do. But mine has it down to an art. It's easier to go down a list than it is to just state the things she does...

1. My Tattoos: When I first got a tattoo (mind, I was 24 and hadn't lived in her house or anywhere near her since I turned 18), she demanded to see it. I refused to show it to her because - though it was on my arm - we were in a public place and she was going to make a scene. It was a big tattoo. True to form, she asked why I would "do this to her" and proceeded to cry dramatically and call me a branded cow. She then wailed about how I couldn't be buried in a church cemetery anymore (yes I can), even though our whole family has always been cremated and she knew that I wanted the same. We'd never discussed burial for anyone in our family before this point, but somehow that was now an issue. Any tattoos after that were met with scornful looks, snide comments, and lectures about how I needed to "grow up and knock that shit off." Anytime we go anywhere, she asks anyone we know and anyone I introduce her to what they think of my tattoos, trying to get them to tell me they're horrible as if saying it enough and having people agree with her can magic them out of my skin. She's asked my husband, my close friends, my not-so-close friends, almost strangers, waitresses, people she works with, and even my in-laws.
2. My Clothes/Hair: Nothing is good enough. She always complains about what I wear, pretty much demanding that I dress up even for going to a diner where truckers frequent. She constantly wants me in uncomfortable clothes because they're "grown up" and "feminine." Even when I dress up, she keeps looking me over until she finds something wrong with me.
3. My Car/House: If I have anything in the backseat of my car - mail I just picked up, boxes for moving, a gym bag, etc. - she calls it filthy and disgusting and complains the whole time. My house? Same. I once tried to avoid this pitfall by scrubbing the place from top to bottom for two whole days, wearing myself out. I put away pretty much any sign that the house had people living in it. I thought she would catch the sarcasm. Instead, it still wasn't clean enough and she set about rearranging my furniture without permission (again) and cleaning counters.
4. Places We Go: I spend a lot of money to take her out when I'm with her. Places she likes, nice places that she never could afford on her own, shopping, eating, movies, the works. I even pay her for gas. $20 every time I get in her car. She says that's about the cost of the gas we use (it isn't, she can fill her tank for a couple bucks less), and I agree because I know she doesn't have money. Is all this enough? No. The service is slow, the selection isn't to her liking, the lights give her a headache, the perfectly cooked food isn't perfect enough, the movie wasn't good, the seats were too soft, etc. I even took her to the beach for three days. NO expense to her whatsoever. She complained that we had different rooms, she complained about the delicious seafood, she complained about the heat and sun, and she complained that I didn't want to go see a boring movie with her because I insisted we should try things that we wouldn't get to do normally when we're back home.
5. My Husband: Everything he touches is golden. Everything he does is sunshine and rainbows. She never stops talking about how wonderful he is. Daughters are supposed to be able to talk to their mothers about their problems. I mention something, and it's immediately my fault. I'm not good enough for him. I'm not trying hard enough. I'm not doing this or that, or giving him children, or dressing sexy or overly feminine. It's always because of me. Sometimes, even if it was my fault, that wouldn't excuse a problem we're having. But to her, it does. It's always my fault. And if I don't change everything about myself on a huge bulleted list, I will lose him.

Thanks, mum.

Family Guilt and Fake Smiles

Even if I could get past all that criticism enough to choke down the holiday cheer and overly seasoned food, it's still a mess. With my brother and his (girlfriend? fiancé? mother of his children? I don't know) not talking to mum, I now have to split my very limited time between three families, all demanding to see us. My in-laws don't actually care about seeing me, so lately I've taken to leaving my husband with them and splitting the time between my brother and mum. Both very tense situations, both tackled alone. Then I have to face the questions from my mum about why he isn't there, doesn't he like her, because of course it's not enough to have just me. And when she requests just me, it's always to help her with errands or chores or stress about her jobs and money issues and health issues and my dad. Always kind of negative. And if I don't get time to see someone, they lay on the guilt really thick. They don't understand that because they're petty enough to refuse to be near each other, that puts me in a difficult position and leaves me with no time to see my husband. And what with his job being 100% travel, I see him roughly 32-38 days each year.

Let's say it somehow works out that I have time to see everyone. From there, it's just a bunch of fake smiles and pretending to be okay, pretending that every second I'm not looking for ways to escape and hang myself with the shiny garland. It's listening to loud people say the same things over and over, getting increasingly drunk and/or bitter and/or grumpy or outrageous. Then comes the sentimentality that makes me cringe. I hate sentimental emotion. HATE it. I feel as if I'm quite literally drowning in their emotions and it's too much for me to handle. I feel so disconnected from all of it. I feel like I'm on the outside looking in, just going through the motions and trying to breathe until I have to walk outside and get fresh air or vomit on all of them. Then people kind of treat me like I'm ruining the fun when they don't realize how close I was to puking and committing seppuku with the carving knife in front of them. Light meat or dark meat? Nah. Blood or vomit is your choice. Pick what you want to be covered in.

Farewell to My Lady K...
K, a girl I was quite close with and loved dearly, died last year the day before Thanksgiving. She was vibrant and full of life. She was a rebel that did what suited her and didn't take shit from anyone. She wanted to live in Florida for a few weeks? She made it work. She wanted to go cliff diving? She made it work. Anything she wanted to do, she somehow did. And when people gave her a hard time, she simply let them go. She didn't need that in her life and she refused to feel guilty for making herself happy. She wasn't hurting anyone, so why should it matter? I loved that about her. I loved her. I half wanted to be her and half wanted to marry her. So when I found out on Thanksgiving as we were all cooking, the house packed full, that K had died from complications of a car crash the previous day... Part of me died with her. I couldn't fake the smiles anymore. I couldn't choke down the cheer. I imploded. I collapsed inward on myself and made a shameful scene of crying. She was so young and it wasn't fair that it happened.

And now that Thanksgiving draws near, I wonder if I will be able to fake the smiles again. I wonder if I'll feel even more disconnected from everything happening around me. I wonder if I can tolerate the overly seasoned food and the criticism and being spread far too thin, of having no one understand and no one to talk to, an ocean of their emotions and big personalities drowning me, sickeningly cheerful Christmas music blasting so loud that I can't even think... I'm guessing not.

Here's hoping your holidays are far more tolerable.

Have a horrible or awkward holiday story? Have holiday stress?

Hate this time of year with the burning fire of a thousand suns?

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Elision

This is my instrumental. I don't understand words.

This is my language. I can't articulate.

Music does most of the talking. Lyrics that I didn't write scratch the surface. The music is most important. The beats, the melody. I think in emotions and sounds. I do not speak in my head as others do. My brain already has made the connection and talking it out in my head slows me down. I do not need to tell myself what I already know. Skip it, make the connections, synapses firing, delivering knowledge and carrying out the commands to the rest of my being.

I look at you. I don't know what to say. Words aren't relatable to me. I hum. Humming shows you my emotion. Humming shows my thoughts. I am not made to be a being that communicates and thinks in words. Why would you speak when you could let the sounds say more effectively what you are in that moment? I often find songs in instrumental versions because I understand them better without words. As if they are speaking another language when they sing. Music is universal. Music I understand. No words. No clutter. Only emotion and sound.

I can't articulate to you. I can't speak aloud. I don't know what to say, so I drum a rhythm on the table. You don't understand. I vocalize a complicated melody. You still don't understand. But I can't speak.

I do not vow silence. I vow sound without words.

I count numbers like scores that validate my existence.

I did not do this for myself out of selfish anger. I did this out of love. Count one, count two, let the echoes carry your anguish.

And then to the elision. The continual elision that is my life.

And this is what I say...